I'm baaaaack.

First, I apologize for having been gone so long. Apparently at least one guy reads this, 'cause he asked why.

I'd like to say that I was off on secret assignment, or getting laid, or anything, but the truth is, I was ass-deep in paperwork. And it's all about this blog.

See, there was a bit of a power shift in the Guild. Not a coup, or anything interesting like that; one guy retired, another guy took over, blah blah blah. The upshot is that the new guy had all kinds of delusions about shit he was going to change (the guy actually had the balls to use the word "reform" on several occasions), and he got his panties in a wad about this blog. Said it threatened "Guild secrecy."

What you have to understand is that the Guild is as much mired in bureaucratic bullshit as any medium-sized company; only the pencil pushers have funny names like "Elder." An "Elder" is essentially a guy (or gal - we're equal opportunity shitty employers) who is too strung-out to cut it as a field agent, and who consequently ends up stuck behind a desk, thinking very highly of him or herself. The Speaker is the "head" of the Council of Elders, the Council being a group of decrepit old farts that sit around in a dusty room making motions, seconding them, and dividing into committees. And I can say this because the Guild really has no upward mobility, and they're too strapped to actually fire any of us. So if you're reading this, O Great Council, you may kindly suck an egg.

Anyway, the new Speaker (I'm no longer allowed to use real names, so I'll just refer to him as Speaker Numbnuts) decided that we should be more secretive about our activities. If you've been following this blog at all, you'll understand why this is a singularly dumbass thing to say. Vamps can't read, and nobody else fucking believes this shit, so what difference could it possibly make? The Guild passed a motion to force me to suspend the blog pending further discussion. I would have told them to fuck off if I had known the kind of paperwork "futher discussion" meant - I mean what were they going to do, fire me? Oh, dear. As it was, I wanted the bitching and moaning to stop, so I played along.

I finally convinced them to allow me to continue by pointing out that my blog did no harm, and could potentially save lives. It does no harm, because most of you assume I'm either a little south of sane or making this shit up. It could save lives if you remember any of what you read when you're trapped in an alley one day wishing you'd believed me in the first place while you're chased by one of these overgrown leeches.

Faced with my stirring and eloquent arguments (I managed cut out 90% of the "fucks" that came to my throat), Speaker Numbnuts and the Council reluctantly agreed to shut up and let me blog. So, I'm back. Questions?

It burns!

So the first "experiment" we tried involved using a high-powered tranquilizer rifle to shoot darts filled with various vile things into the vamp. We tried a bunch of shit, with varying degrees of success:

1. Tranquilizer - Yeah, that wasn't worth a shit. We tried shooting him about six different places, with no effect at all. Pretty much as expected. Wasn't until we got a direct headshot that the fucker stopped moving around for 20 minutes or so.
   
   Remember that a vamp is essentially reanimated meat - the heart, while serving as a core of some kind, doesn't actually beat. Sound weird to you? The thing eats people by drinking plasma; try to keep the weirdness in perspective.
   
   
2. Silver nitrate - We shot the first dart into old Smiley's wrist. He didn't like that at all. The skin just under the dart bubbled up like a third degree burn, and he let loose with one of those throaty, Bea Arthur-type growls the bloody vamps are so fond of. Still, silver nitrate is a fairly expensive chemical, and the effect wasn't crippling - it pretty much just pissed him off. All things considered, not a weapon worth pursuing. Still, it was neat target practice, though we had to gag him after about six shots or so; he was killing my buzz.
   
   
3. Poison - None of the human poisons we tried worked worth a shit, though arsenic did seem to make him a little itchy.
   
   
4. Ash sap - This was a stupid idea. Nat thought that maybe - because the grave stakes we used are made of ash, that ash sap would have some kind of corrosive properties. It didn't. I could've told his stupid ass that.
   
   
5. Holy water - Holy fuck, was that awesome. Holy water is always a nifty spectacle, with the burning and the screaming. But eventually, either the vamp wipes it off or it evaporates off, leaving behind third degree burns that look bad, but won't really have a lasting effect.
   
   Intravenously, though, is a different story. That shit stayed in there. The vamp was screaming and wailing for about the first half hour, then just whimpering for the next couple of hours. The holy water never loses its sanctification, and with no place to go, it just swishes around and burns.
   
   The best part was, the more he moved around, the worse it got. Stupid fuck kept shaking, and the stuff kept swishing around his useless veins and shit, burning him from the inside out. I mean sure, it's not lethal, but I'd buy a tranq rifle out of pocket just to watch that again.
   

Just a spoonful of silver...

So a friend of mine, Nathan, came in from out of state this weekend. Seems the vamp situation in Illinois has died down a bit, and he decided to take a vacation.

Only he didn't take a fucking vacation. From the moment he got here, all he wanted to do was talk vamps. Vamps this, vamps that. Always with the fucking vamps. I took him out to lunch; he talked about vamps. I took him to a nightclub: more talking about vamps. I took him to a goddamned titty bar, and he still talked about vamps.

I finally gave up on the social part of his social call, and we went hunting. Seems old Nate has been thinking a lot about weapons lately, and needed some help putting some theories in motion. So instead of killing, we went out to bag a vulgaris.

I do a damn fine job, so it was tough to find any in my city. We ended up driving all the way to Mexico, where a buddy of mine was involved in a small (but manageable) infestation.

When we found the last nest, which took all of, oh, twenty minutes (bloodfuckers aren't known for their subtlety), we kept one alive, dumped him in the trunk, and took him out to an abandoned Quonset hut on the Texas side of the border. It's a pretty useful place, if you can ignore the vague sensation of standing in a giant condom.

When sunset came around and the vamp woke up, let me tell you - that toothy fuck was not happy with us. But he's pretty well strapped in, so I could frankly give a shit.

We're gonna spend the next few days testing out weapon ideas. Think of it as research and development that just happens to look a lot like torture (Though the fact that this shitheel ate an 8-year-old boy doesn't make it any harder). I'll post our results here soon, for any of you bored enough to read them.

Say blood!

I've been negligent in my blogging duties. I'd apologize, but I honestly don't give a shit.

I got this question the other day:

Silly question, just wanted to know if u can sketch what these creatures look like. I know u probably would not be able to photograph them, because ur too busy slaying them.

Really like to see what they look like.

Do you have a system in logging each creature you come into contact with? I guess what I'm trying to figure out besides from what you carry with you...if you journal any of your adventures in a book?

Are you a full time Vampyr Hunter?

Well, actually, I can't sketch them, because my drawing skills include stick figures and smiley suns in the corner of the page. Get enough Johnny Walker in me, and I may even draw a dog. But vamps? No way.

But I was thinking of you yesterday, so I took along my camera phone and snapped a pic when I bagged a bloodmonkey.

I know, the picture sucks, but you try holding a crossbow at the right angle and managing a camera phone while lighting your picture with a big flashlight set on the floor. Ansel Adams I 'aint, but old Ansel didn't have a sleeping vamp to work around.

The next time I got a partner, I'll have him hold the camera (they make funnier faces when you toss holy water on them, but you need two hands to stake them after that).

In answer to your other question, I make reports to the Guild on a regular basis. Well, sorta; I'm behind on my paperwork, to be honest. However, I don't keep a book. This... blog-thing... is my journal. I know the Guild keeps written records, but I don't think you can just walk in and check them out like a library.

I am employed full-time as a hunter, if only so that they can be sure they can call on me, with no conflicts, 24/7. I do some contract jobs here and there - cabinetry, laying tile, etc. - because the pay sucks ass, but I don't get involved in any job I couldn't walk away from immediately.

Back.

Sorry for the extended absence; I had to haul my ass out to Tacoma, WA to take care of a multiple nest pattern in some unused storage facilities.

We lost our Washington hunter last year to a threat far greater than any vamp... his own drunk ass in a Chevy Malibu. Like most hunters, Guild hunters seem to be particularly fond of the juice. Some of us, however, are smart enough not to drive cars or select women while inebriated.

Anyway, the MNP wasn't hard to clean, once we tracked it ("we" being myself and Dan, the Oregon guy). Tracking it, though, was a bitch. Vamps tend to nest in one centralized locale; when a nest grows uncomfortable (usually 8 or more), a few rejects are booted from the pack and sent to nest on their own. Usually, they have the good sense to go far away, but these fuckers - 4 nests in all - stayed within a half-mile of each other.

Understand something: vamps have no loyalties. They're like hyenas. Two nests of vamps can't encounter each other without snarling and pissing and whatever else they do to establish territory. So either these were extremely docile vamps (bloody hell they were) or they managed not to cross paths (also bullshit). I don't know what the hell happened up there.

In any case, there was no way we could've expected that, so we wasted a lot of time. After we cleaned up the first nest, we spent fucking days trying to track vamps to spots starting at a mile perimeter around the first. Nothing. Two miles. Nothing. Sporadic kills, corpses popping up in random spots. Where the fuck were these guys hunting?

Anyway, we finally caught a break when the police scanner in Dan's truck picked up a 10-11 between two "homeless guys." The on-scene officer said it looked like one had rabies. Yeah, that guy was fucked, but we hung around after the cops picked up their dead compatriot (actually dead), and found nest 2. Once we started hunting closer to the first nest, we found the remaining two pretty easily, because of Dan's dog.

Dan had this bloodhound, Shirley, and used him (yes, him) in reverse. We'd wander around, and when Shirley didn't want to go in somewhere (when, in fact, he started pissing himself and whining - that fucking name made him a little bitch, I guess), that's where we went. Shirl hates vamps. I can't have a big dog in my building; maybe I'll train myself a hamster or a chihuahua or something.

The hunter's... duffel bag.

Somebody asked me about my kit. Let's see:

1. A black leather duffel - forget cool gadget boxes with little pockets for everything. I chuck everything in a black leather duffel. Black because it's less visible if you have to ditch it in a shrub at night, and leather because, well, it lasts. And blood cleans off it really nice with some Kiwi leather cleaner.
2. Grave stakes - A grave stake, as described earlier, is a wooden (ash) stake that was originally shaped like a cross to serve as a grave marker, consecrated for use in blessing the dead. It no longer matters whether or not it has the cross-bar, so long as it once did. (Hey, I don't make the rules). I make mine out of ash chair legs, which I order special from a reputable furniture dealer, so I know they're really ash. I carry 4-5 at a time, because they have a tendency to get lodged in ribcages.
3. A mallet - I need this for driving grave stakes.
4. A water gun - I like the old Super Soaker 100. I found it with some of my brother's childhood things. It's a simple, pump-action 1/4 gal. model that was popular in the early 90s. You'll understand why it's useful when I add...
5. A half-gallon of holy water - Unload a quart of this into a sleeping vamp's face. It's fucking sweet. With the burning, and the unholy screams? Priceless.
   
6. A crossbow - A good crossbow should cost at least $600. Mine, a custom-built Horton with an ash stock (measured to fit just right in the crook of my arm) and a silver heel, was $7000. But most of that's just showing off. Hey, I get few kicks in this line. I consecrated my crossbow, and carved a cross into the stock. Most of that was for effect, but you never know.
   
7. Bolts - Ash shafts, silver heads. Pink, synthetic feathers. (Hey, that's all the guy had when he built them.) These are a custom job; they stopped selling them on eBay. I use a woodburning kit to burn cross-shapes into the shaft. The crosses don't do anything, but the vamps are afraid of them. That way, when I miss (which is often), I get to watch them look down at the shaft in their gut and scream like a girl while they try to pull it out. Again, few kicks. I carry a quiver of 20 or so bolts, and I go fetch them when the vamps dead (they're $22.50 a piece). These are consecrated.
   
8. Sawed-off shotgun - last-ditch defense. You get close enough to a vamp to use this, and you're probably already dead. But a round to the chest'll slow them down, and you can tear up limbs with buckshot faster than they can heal them. Might buy escape time. Mine was on sale at WalMart - I got it and the hacksaw for $90. The buckshot is consecrated (I'll repeat some earlier advice: hunters should get ordained. Imagine asking a priest to bless your shotgun shells).
   
9. Crosses - I cover myself in crosses. Around my neck, in my pockets - little wooden crosses everywhere. I have hundreds in a box; I toss 'em in odd places like mothballs: couple in the duffel, couple in the closet, couple in the car. I buy them in bulk from this family in Mexico. You never know when fumbling across one might save your life. As far as I know, crosses don't actually harm the vamps; but they scare the shit out of them.
   
10. A machete - My machete was pricey - I wanted good steel - but it's still a fucking machete. Nothing particularly interesting. It slices, it dices, it scares the shit out of witnesses. I blessed mine, mostly because I like saying "holy machete."
11. 8 oz. human blood - I carry this in a water bottle; it's the vamp equivalent of carrying a steak around to distract guard dogs. Fledgling vulgaris are far more hungry than they are smart.
    
12. T-shirt, electric razor, deodorant, bar of soap - Because you never know when you might have to scrub down. A whore's bath is a hunter's best friend.
    
13. A roll of $20s - Some methods of killing vamps leave bodies. When this happens, it's usually better to leave before John Law shows up. Usually, they won't keep looking for us; their "victims" are several weeks decomposed, so they have nothing to rely on but eyewitnesses who claim the corpse was munching on folks. Still, a roll of $20s is a necessity - it's a small enough denomination to not rouse suspicion, but enough of them will get you across state lines and into a shitty Motel 6.
14. Marlboro Reds (5 packs) - A reminder: I don't hunt vamps at night. Why? Because I have an IQ above 70. I do, however, stakeout at night (no pun intended), and that is nicotine-driven work.
15. Peppermint oil - Shut up. It masks the human scent, okay?
16. Condoms - Because I'm not always working (Of course, the condoms have passed their expiration date, so I must not be doing much of anything else, either).
    

q & a: it's not as fun as t & a

I'm fucking well bored. I'm heading out of town this weekend to help on a routine sweep, but activity seems to be low right now. Not that I'm complaining, but one can only watch so many reruns of The West Wing.

So... since I have no interesting news, I'll answer questions.

C'mon, I know I'm an ass about it, but I still answer them. Use the comments, though; I'm tired of sorting through the various dick enhancer ads in my email.